


Trick and Treat

by mrua7



Series: Strange, scary stories and the Man from U.N.C.L.E. [17]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:04:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5049679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon and Illya attend a Halloween party; mischief to ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trick and Treat

 “Why am I having a terrible feeling I am going to regret doing this?” Illya Kuryakin whispered to his companion as they stood outside an apartment door. It was decorated with flashing orange lights, and a skeleton head with glowing red eyes.

 “Come on tovarisch, it’s just a Halloween party. I guarantee it will be an interesting one.

 “There are people in masks, what if they are enemy agents; we will not know…”

 “Most of the people here work for U.N.C.L.E. Remember I told you the hostess is Gloria from the Masque Club. Just a reminder, you have no problem going there with all the girls wearing their lacy black masks and their skimpy little outfits, by the way.”

“I go there for the drinks and the bar snacks not to mention I already know the ladies who work there. It is not rocket science to be able to recognize them beneath those masks. Here there will be people in gorilla costumes and Frankenstein masks whom I do not know because of their costumes,” Illya grumbled as he scanned the room.

 “I’m crushed, partner mine.” Napoleon feigned dejection.”You left me off the list?”

 “Oh, _excusez-moi. Monsieur L'empereur Napoléon.._.by the way that costume of yours is not only predictable, you have worn it at every ball we have ever attended, whether on assignment or not.  It is getting a bit old if you ask me.”

 Solo drew back his shoulders, slipping his hand into his waistcoat, taking on the classic Napoleon pose as he rang the doorbell.

 “No one’s asking you Spike and I’ll have you know the girls love it...and what the hell are you supposed to be in that getup? Napoleon looked his partner up and down.

 Illya was wearing a blue double-breasted pinstripe suit, a bow-tie, his wire rim spectacles and he’d darkened his hair with a rinse. “I am...Doctor Who, if you must know,”  he said, answering his partners question as they stepped inside.

 “Who?”

 “That is what I said, Who.”

 “What?”

 “Not what...who Napoleon. Doctor Who is a classic science fiction character who time travels in a British police call box. It is however, deceiving as the interior of it contains the Tardis which allows him to move through time and space. The external dimensions do not bear very much resemblance to what is inside. The interior of the TARDIS occupies a separate set of dimensions to the exterior, so it is a lot bigger on the inside than the outside.”

 Napoleon shook his head. “Where the heck do you find this stuff?

 “I first discovered Doctor Who when I lived in London. It was quite fascinating as he did battle with a race of robots called the Daleks who were hell bent on destroying all life in the universe.”

 “Hmmm sounds like a T.H.R.U.S.H. plot to me,” Solo chuckled.

 The door opened, and the two were quickly greeted by a man dressed in a monk's robe, carrying a plastic scythe. He lowered his hood revealing his identity. It was Tom Lopaka, the Section Chief of Security.

 “Come on in boys!”

 Napoleon sauntered in with his partner following closely behind, as always, keeping a watchful eye.

 Knowing what would soothe the savage beast the was Kuryakin, he led the Russian towards the kitchen. “Let’s go get something to eat and drink before we mingle.”

 There platters of food were set out on the table, the refrigerator was well stocked with beer, and liquor bottles were lined up with glasses and an ice bucket in the pass through window.

 Illya spotted an unopened bottle of Stolichnaya and made a beeline for it; pouring a large glass of it for himself with relish. Though it wasn’t chilled as it should be, he would enjoy it just the same.  

 “Hmmm, this party has just improved greatly,” he smiled.

 Drinks poured, and plates full, they were about to go find a place to sit and enjoy their little feast of rare roast beef sandwiches, and spicy chicken wings with celery and bleu cheese....when a scream came from the living room.

 Their plates were quickly set down on the counter and the two men dashed from the kitchen, guns drawn.

 “There!” A woman dressed as a red werewolf (sounding very much like Heather McNabb) screamed,” Oh my God! They’re...they’re huge!”

 Solo and Kuryakin looked to where she pointed.

 Sitting motionless in one corner of the room were a pair of very large rats.

 Illya, having had many experiences with such creatures since he was a child, leaned forward, carefully observing them.

 There was no movement whatsoever….no twitching of noses, wiggling of whiskers or  signs of life in their eyes.  Nothing.  

 He bent down, picking up the rats by the tails, turning and showing them for all to see.

 

 

There were instant squeaks and shrieks from the women and one of them actually fainted.

 “They are not real,” Illya called out. “See?” He shook them for all to observe.

 There were more squeals of displeasure and Napoleon quickly comforted the girls one by one, enveloping each of them in his reassuring in his arms.

 Illya didn’t understand all commotion about the rats since they weren’t real, but as a gesture to calm the situation, he tossed them into the trash bin.

 Once things settled, he and Napoleon finally sat down to eat their food.

 “Worked like a charm,” Solo leaned over, whispering to his partner as he sipped his glass of scotch,

 “What worked like a charm?” Illya parroted back the words.

 “The fake rats.”

 Illya turned to his partner, aghast. “You planted those things?”

 “Hey it was a little Halloween trick, and the ladies needing comfort was my treat,” he grinned. “Got quite a few phone numbers out of it, I might add.”

 “Napoleon, the lengths you go to ensnare women never ceases to astound me.”

 Illya prepared to nibble on his sandwich, but having a horrible thought his partner might have done something to it as a joke, he lifted up the bread, double checking the contents.  Once judging it to be safe, he took a satisfied bite.

 “So enjoying the party now?” Napoleon asked.

 “I will admit, it has been interesting as you promised.”

 “I always deliver,” Napoleon said as he pulled out a pair of x-ray glasses, offering them first to his partner.

 Illya chuckled, refusing with a wave of his hand.  

 “Suit yourself,” Napoleon said as he put on the glasses with a grin.

 “You my friend are incorrigible.”

 “Absolutely, and happy Halloween tovarisch.”

“Da,” Illya said, downing his glass of vodka; instantly contemplating a second; that and a few more would make the evening more enjoyable, he supposed.


End file.
